Sports Of The Wealthy Novels & Stories

"Theodore Kingsley. USATF board member. That Theodore Kingsley?" He shrugged. "It's not a big deal." Not a big deal. I stared at him. The BMW. The rose gold iPod. The graduation party at an expensive lounge. The casual way he threw money around like it meant nothing. It all made sense now. Mark wasn't just some rich kid with a nice car and a trust fund. He was practically gold. His father wasn't just wealthy. He was one of the very pillars holding up the sport I had dedicated my entire life to. The sport I competed in. The sport I coached. The sport I just got fired from.

The venue was teeming with the crème de la crème of society, individuals adorned in shimmering gowns and expensive suits. The women, with their chins held high, paraded in exquisite dresses, each embellished with rare gemstones, jewelry crafted from the finest stones. They reveled in showcasing their affluence. Meanwhile, the gentlemen, engaged in conversations about business, boasted about their achievements, recounting tales of building empires upon empires. From filthy rich businessmen to powerful politicians and renowned celebrities, they all gathered to witness the engagement of the formidable and one of the most sought-after bachelors in town, Fabian Luigi Romano, to the sole heiress o

Alexander shut her out immediately. He was too busy talking to business partners and potential investors for his company, which was his major purpose for attending the gala. He didn't believe in the act of charity; to him, it was a waste of money, but these things needed to be done so that he could show off his company. A company that he was about to lose the majority shares he owned if he didn't get married.

Me in that silver dress, standing far too close to Alexander Lancaster. His hand was at my waist. I remembered the moment his touch, the confusion in his eyes. And now it was plastered across the internet. The headline was bold and cruel: **'Nichole Adams Caught in Scandal with Billionaire Alexander Lancaster — Betrayal Runs in the Family?’** My stomach dropped. “Oh God…” Claire exhaled slowly. “It’s already everywhere. T*****r, gossip sites, even some business pages.” I took her phone, scrolling through the comments.

“Did you see anything in the room at least, that could help you Identify him? I hesitated, the watch flashing in my mind. “I know he's rich, like filthy rich. He had a Patek Philippe Grandmaster chime on the nightstand.” Laura blinked, “I've heard that name before,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “Isn't that Scott's dream watch?” She asked. I nodded, my chest tightening. “ It is.” “Oh Linda, I'm so sorry for bringing him up.” She apologized. “It's fine,” I said softly.

Never for once had the billionaire witnessed Brian’s troubles, even only a handful knew Fanny had on insane son, and he was glad over the falls the meetings were hosted he had not recorded any emergency, perpetrated by Brian. So this day the meeting opened with the first fall. All over the compound and field of Fanny’s mansion seemed as if he was into sales of fleets of cars; expensive luxury cars for that matter. A few of the billionaires grazed the occasion in their private jets. The Rio Hondos had often seized such time to have a glimpse of wealth with their eyes and it was recorded that such meeting had never been witnessed in the whole of counties in Texas. In such day the Rio Hondos al

They could sit at the same table as the Apex wolves, but they could also be replaced, discarded or ignored at any time Then came the ones who had money, but nothing else. Their families were rich. Filthy rich, even but they held no real influence in werewolf society. Their parents were business tycoons, corporate heads, or successful traders who had bought their way into LuxeMount. They had the luxury, the privileges, the expensive cars and designer clothes, but when it came to real power? They had none. Money could get them into rooms, but it couldn't buy them the respect of those born into power.

The international sports club was indeed the place for billionaires. It was a lush green paradise, the kind of place where the smell of freshly cut grass mingled with the faint scent of luxury cologne. The sun was high in the sky, casting a warm glow across the perfectly manicured fairways and gleaming chrome golf carts.